


Over the Moon

by NeverAndAlways



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Childbirth, Gen, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnant Bucky, Protective Steve, graphic birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-12 09:17:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5661001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverAndAlways/pseuds/NeverAndAlways
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says in the tags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over the Moon

July 30th

10:00 am

 

Summer in New York: hotter than the gates of Hell. Steve shuts the apartment door and stands for a moment in the welcome cool. Then he sets a grocery bag - his reason for braving the outdoors in the first place - on the kitchen counter.

"Buck..?" he calls softly. No answer, but that's not too unusual. Steve heads for the bedroom.

The smell of oil meets him halfway. And when he pokes his head through the door, there's his boyfriend: Bucky is sitting on the bed, electric fan pointed at him full-blast, using a cloth to rub oil into his metal arm. He's been doing a lot of that lately. Sweat and metal do not a good combo make. He gives Steve a glance and goes back to scrubbing.

"How's it going?" Steve sits down next to him.

"It's way too hot to be this pregnant."

Steve chuckles. It's way too hot for just about everything, really. "Well, I got us some more ice." Bucky gives a noncommittal grunt to show that he heard, and continues scrubbing his arm with a vengeance. "Here-" Steve gently takes the cloth from his hand. He can get the hard-to-reach places. Bucky doesn't argue, just lays back cradling his belly, and Steve goes to work. The fan drones sleepily.

"...Steve?"

"Mm?"

"...I think I'm in labor."

Steve stops dead. "You - really??"

Bucky's staring at the ceiling, more contemplative than anything. "Yeah. Contractions on and off since last night." he sighs. Then he splays his fingers across his belly, and his mouth quirks up in a half-smile. "We're gonna be parents, Stevie."

Shock gives way to a wide grin. "Yeah, we are."

 

oOo

1:00 pm

 

The peace and quiet doesn't last long. The contractions are finding a rhythm, and Bucky gets antsy. He gives up oiling his arm to pace the apartment; Steve keeps himself busy by getting things ready and making the necessary calls. One of these calls is to their midwife, a 30-something woman who reminds Steve a little of Natasha (Bucky can't stand Bruce, and he likes hospitals even less, so they decided on a midwife pretty early in the pregnancy). Her name is Ann. Bucky likes her okay, which is good enough for Steve. It's more than Bucky likes most people.

And so they wait.

The pain isn't quite as restless once it becomes regular. Bucky's able to sit on an exercise ball for a while and even take a bath, although he abandons the latter to claustrophobia pretty quickly. Steve comes back from draining the tub to find him on the ball again, clutching the edge of the mattress in a deathgrip. His metal hand's already torn through the fabric layers. Steve's learned by now how to recognize the contractions as they come, and - if the tension in Bucky's face is anything to go by - they're getting worse. A few springs snap as he approaches. As the contraction ends, Steve gathers Bucky's hair away from his face and pulls it into a loose ponytail. Bucky lets out a slow, whooshing breath and mutters his thanks. Then he slowly releases his hold on the mattress. A sizeable hunk of stuffing and some bits of springs fall to the floor.

"Damn. Sorry..."

"Don't worry about it." Steve scoops them up and tosses them in the trash. "How long was that one?"

Bucky squints at the bedside clock. "Thirteen minutes. Ish." he flexes his other hand. "Where's Ann?"

"She said to call when the contractions were at three minutes, remember?"

"Mm." Bucky flicks a strand of hair out of his eyes, sits up straighter. "Long way to go until then..." brown eyes look up into blue. "It's really happening, though. We're actually gonna meet him."

"We are indeed." Steve plants a kiss on Bucky's hair, and feels him smile. It's a nice moment. "Twelve minutes to the next one. Are you good here, or do you wanna move?"

Bucky puts a hand on his belly as though asking the baby's opinion. "...Move, I think." he plants his other hand on the bed and starts to push himself upright; when Steve moves in to help, he bats him away. "I got it, I got it." he stands up, scoots the exercise ball none-too-gently out of the way, and sets off.

Steve smirks, and trots to catch up.

 

oOo

4:00 pm

 

Now Bucky's returned to the bedroom. He's planted in the middle of the room, cross-legged with his palms flat on the floor, just concentrating. Almost meditating. His head lolls back; first to one shoulder, then the other. The contractions have narrowed to just under ten minutes. Steve wants nothing more than to just be close to him, try to help him through this. But he also knows his boyfriend. He knows that when Bucky's really stressed he doesn't want anyone near him, much less trying to touch him. So he hangs back and watches. If Bucky needs help, he'll know.

After an hour or so of sitting, the contractions have lost another minute. A deep tiredness seems to settle over Bucky. He grabs a throw pillow and lays back with it under his head, and before long he's dozing. That's when Steve finally intervenes. Slowly and cautiously, so as not to startle him (Bucky is one of those who punches when startled), he approaches his boyfriend and lays a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey." he whispers. "Buck, wake up." Bucky frowns, wrinkles his nose and mumbles something grouchy but incoherent. Steve gently taps his collarbone. "C'mon, babe. Open your eyes."

He obliges, but only to glare. "Th' hell, Stevie?"

"If you're going to sleep, let's get you up on the bed. This is just gonna hurt your back."

"It hurts anyway." Bucky grouses as Steve helps him up. "Won't make much of a diff...oh god, stop. Stop for a second." his hands close in a vice-grip around Steve's arms and his whole body tenses up.

Steve holds as still as he can. The metal hand grips so hard it's almost painful, but he knows that's just a fraction of what Bucky's feeling. He watches the clock; thirty seconds tick by before the contraction passes. Bucky's arms are shaking even after the tension leaves him.

"That was a bad one." he pants. "Damn, why won't he just come already??"

"He will. Give it time."

"That's all I've **been** doing!" Bucky's face is lined and tense in a way that Steve's never seen. Up to now, he hasn't shown any signs of feeling frustrated or trapped by the labor. He eases himself onto the bed, wincing as his back undoubtedly protests.

"D'you want me to call Ann?"

"No." the word is more of a grunt. Bucky wriggles around trying to get comfortable. "Not 'till we need her. Don't want anyone else here but you."

Steve smiles. "Got it." that's Bucky to a T: fiercely independent. He leans down for a brief kiss. "Try to sleep. I'll be in the next room, just call if you need me, okay?"

"Ten-four."

Steve stops just long enough to move the fan to the nightstand and point it at Bucky. Then he shows himself out, leaving the door open a crack behind him. Just in case.

 

oOo

7:00 pm

 

Steve makes himself some toast. He's not really hungry, but it's the principle of the thing. He briefly considers taking a piece to Bucky, but the guy's already lost his socks a couple times since this morning. So he nibbles on his and tries not to worry. For the past two, almost three hours, he's listened as the sounds of discomfort from the bedroom get louder and more urgent. And yet there's still almost eight minutes between them. And every time he pokes his head in, Bucky insists that he's fine. He's going to wear himself out if things continue like this...

Steve stares at the phone. It stares back. He's had enough; he picks it up and punches in Ann's number.

"Hello?" her voice is clipped and professional.

"Ann? It's Steve Rogers."

"I wondered when I'd be hearing from you! How's James? Has he passed the three-minute mark?" 

It's odd to hear her refer to Bucky as 'James'. It was by Bucky's own request, and it **is** his real name, but still. "No, actually, that's what I'm calling about. He's been stuck at eight minutes for the past two hours."

"Hm. Well, first labors are known to be slow...has his water broken, is he still steady on his feet?"

"No to the first, yes to the second."

"Okay, have him walk around for a while. The gravity and the extra movement should get things going again. And if he's in a lot of pain, a warm shower can help take the edge off."

"Got it."

"And Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"He's going to be fine."

Steve lets out a nervous laugh. Is he really that transparent? "Thanks, Ann."

"It's my job, honey. And **your** job is to quit fretting and go be with your boyfriend."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And keep me appraised. If he still hasn't progressed in an hour or so, call me back."

"Will do."

Steve hangs up and does as he's told. Bucky's sitting up in bed now - more or less. He's hunched over with his hands on his knees, and Steve can see him shaking from the doorway. He glances over his shoulder as Steve approaches.

"Heard you talking to Ann." his voice is wrecked.

"Just giving her an update." Steve soothes. He sits down next to his boyfriend.

"And?"

"She says walking around will help get things moving. And a shower's okay, if you want one."

"'K." Bucky pauses, thinking. Then he reaches for a discarded T-shirt at the end of the bed and pulls it on, stretching it to cover his bump. "If we're gonna walk, let's go outside. 'M sick of looking at the apartment."

"Alright, lead the way."

Bucky heaves himself up and off the bed with a groan. Then, with his metal hand hanging onto whatever furniture is closest and the other holding onto Steve, makes his way to the door.

It's going to be a long night.

 

oOo

10:00 pm

 

Steve drops the phone on the counter and all but runs back to his boyfriend's side. Bucky is on all fours in the middle of the living room: he ended up there when a contraction took him by surprise, but the position seems to work, so he's going with it. The contractions are (finally) closing in on three minutes and they're stronger, more focused. He's between contractions right now, but still hurting. There's not as much of a break in the pain anymore.

"She's on her way. Ten minutes at the most." says Steve, crouching next to him. Bucky looks up; there's a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his hair's working its way out of the ponytail. Steve reaches out to fix it.

"Thank god." Bucky rasps. "I'm so done with all of this- just leave it!" he shakes his head, and the ponytail comes undone entirely.

"Do you want to try a shower before she gets here? It might-"

"No. No shower. This is good, this works. Just...gotta power through it..." Bucky hangs his head. His hair falls in a limp curtain around his face. "Aw, hell..." he rocks his hips side-to-side, and a dark moan rises from somewhere inside him. "Mmmmn, oh god- Steve-!"

"I'm here, Buck. You're alright." Steve lays a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder. Bucky doesn't even seem to hear; he repeats Steve's name like a mantra through clenched teeth. Steve doesn't know what else to do. He coasts his hand up and down Bucky's back, reminding him to breathe, trying to massage some of the tension away even as the muscles shake under his palm. It seems to last forever. Ann had better get here soon.

"Steve..." finally, Bucky's coming out of it. The word comes on the end of a sob, a broken little sound.

"Still here." Steve tucks a runaway strand of hair behind Bucky's ear.

A shuddering breath. "Stay?"

Steve smiles. "I'm not going anywhere, Buck. You can't get rid of me that easily."

An attempt at a laugh turns into a groan. He's gone again. And lost another minute already...that makes it three minutes exactly. Steve watches the clock and times the contractions as they come and go (although it's getting harder to tell the difference). He counts at least four before a sudden noise distracts him: a knock at the door. Ann.

"It's unlocked!" he yells. Then, in an undertone: "Buck, she's here."

Bucky makes a vague affirmative noise; his breathing's beginning to even out. Feet scuff across the carpet and Ann appears with supplies in tow. A small, wiry woman with piercing gray eyes, she looks deceptively severe. Probably why Bucky likes her.

"Looks like I got here just in time." she opens her travel bag and begins laying out supplies.

"Ann," Bucky pants, by way of greeting.

"James. How're you feeling?"

"Hurts like hell."

"I bet it does." Ann pulls on a pair of rubber gloves. "And you're gonna hate me for this, but I need to examine you. Can you get up on your knees?"

With some help from Steve, Bucky sits back on his haunches while Ann lays down towels. And not a moment too soon, either: he gasps and hunches suddenly around his belly, and a dark wet spot spreads down the inseam of his shorts. As it pools between his knees, his face turns beet-red.

"I'm so sorry..."

"Not a problem." Ann lays down a few more towels. "Actually, that's good. Baby's really on his way now."

So they get Bucky disrobed and laying down, and wait for another contraction to pass. He swears his way through the examination. To her credit, Ann is quick and very efficient; she helps him up as soon as she's done, and gets him situated for the next round. "Eight centimeters." she announces, stripping off her gloves. "The last two will be pretty quick, I think, now that your water's broken...you're really in the home stretch, boys. Shouldn't be more than a couple hours."

In spite of it all, Bucky grins. Won't be long now.

 

oOo

 

July 31st

1:00 am

 

Thirteen hours; they're so close to meeting their son. Steve might be a little teary. Bucky certainly is. The stress and pain have finally caught up to him. They're dancing (if you can call it that. More of a slow side-to-side swaying) to one of Bucky's favorite songs from 'back then', before HYDRA and the serum and everything else, as close together as his belly will allow. It's nice to have some calm now that the transition has passed. Bucky rests his forehead on Steve's shoulder and groans through yet another contraction. The sound isn't as urgent now, but it's just as pained. It turns into a deep grunt as the contraction peaks, and Steve realizes he's started to push. He locks eyes with Ann. She's heard it too. She nods: he's far enough dilated. Just let him.

After a few more contractions like this, Bucky's demeanor starts to change. There seems to be more conscious effort on his part. He leans into Steve, gritting his teeth, and that metal hand is going to leave one hell of a bruise. Eventually Ann moves in.

"James." she puts a hand on his back. "You're pushing; do you want to change positions?"

It takes a few moments for Bucky to process the words. Then he mutters something that might be an affirmative and pulls himself away from Steve. He turns around so they're standing back-to-chest, Steve wraps his arms around him, and he hangs onto Steve's wrists.

"I got you, Buck." Steve whispers. "Just relax. You're getting close." he presses a kiss to Bucky's hair and holds it. A reminder that he's still there. Bucky, now resting his full weight on Steve's chest, spreads his knees apart and pushes hard. He lets loose a string of obscenities.

"Keep pushing like that and he'll be here in no time." says Ann, crouched between his feet. Bucky takes her at her word: without even stopping for breath he pushes through to the end of the contraction. Then he gulps in a deep lungful of air.

"...Goddamn." he says, almost like an afterthought. Steve chuckles. The music plays on in the background, an undercurrent of much-needed calm. But another contraction starts up before long and draws Bucky in, and he almost radiates stress. His face flushes red with the effort, but Ann just smiles up at them.

"He's coming, James. He's crowning, I can see him." when Bucky smiles she adds, "Once you get the head out, the rest will be easy."

"'Easy'??" croaks Bucky. Nothing about this has been easy. As if to prove his point he suddenly grimaces and bows forward, very nearly taking his boyfriend with him. He screams, low and rough-edged and breaking off abruptly.

"There's his head." says Ann. "Go ahead and relax for a moment."

Bucky forces himself still while Ann works between his legs, wiping the baby's face clean. There's no cord, so she gives the all-clear to push again. He presses his head back into Steve's shoulder as he bears down, his whole body tense and shaking. Ann supports the baby's head with one gloved hand as it turns. Bucky lets out a whine.

" **Get him out get him out get him out holy HELL** -"

"You're doing it, James. Just one more."

So he takes a deep breath and pushes again. He's shaking right down to his core, and it feels like he's going to shake himself to pieces - until suddenly he goes limp. Every muscle relaxes, Steve looks down to see Ann holding a tiny, bloody shape, and it's over. Simple as that.

Bucky's legs give out at last; Steve lowers him to the ground while Ann towels the baby off. He watches intently as she clears its airways, and beams when its first gurgling cry fills the room, but when she holds it out to him he's suddenly shy of it. He cups its face with his good hand, but makes no move to take it from her.

"Buck? What's wrong?" asks Steve.

"He's so tiny...I don't want to hurt him." his metal hand is curled into a fist, the arm held tight against his side.

"You won't hurt him." Ann smiles. He doesn't look convinced. "Here: for starters, why don't you lay back and I'll put him on your chest."

Bucky complies. He leans back - with Steve still supporting him - and looks terrified. Ann slowly places his son on his bare chest, and the little newborn instantly calms. He hesitates - having lived as a weapon for so long, he sometimes forgets that he can be gentle. But then one hand grazes against a downy cheek, and the tension leaves him. A smile breaks across his face. He covers the baby's tiny back with his good hand, though the metal hand stays at his side. The baby gurgles.

"Hey, sunshine," he whispers. "nice to finally meet you." he laughs weakly and drops his head back onto Steve's shoulder. "Oh my god."

Their eyes meet. "What?"

"We're parents, Stevie."

Steve's grin crinkles at the corners of his eyes. "Yeah, we are."

 

oOo

 

The next morning, the Avengers wake up to a text from Steve. In it is a picture of a baby. The baby is wrapped in a sky-blue blanket and a red hat, frowning up at the camera. Underneath the picture it reads:

LUKE BARNES-ROGERS

JULY 31st

1:41 am

 

Then another picture comes in. This one is of Bucky, laying in bed with Luke in his arms. He looks happy; contented. Natasha scrolls between the two pictures, and smiles her smile.

 

"You did good, Rogers."

 

 

~~   《◇◇◇》   ~~ 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked the story, please leave a comment - I'd love to hear from you!


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